


In Search of Elder Gods

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt 'suspense/horror' with a secondary prompt of 'what the hell is that?!'</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search of Elder Gods

The doorknob rattled in Duo's hand and he had to crank it hard to the right to force the spindle to turn. Pushing inwards left the door unyielding and he had to slam his shoulder into the seemingly rotten wood to force it away from the frame. The scent of dust, mildew and decay assailed his senses and Duo sneezed. Once, twice, then three times which according to superstition should bring him good luck in his endeavor. That was heartening because he had a feeling he was going to need it. The air inside felt slightly cooler which Duo wrote off to shading and the brick construction of the house, not allowing his mind to wander into more disconcerting reasons for the lower temperature.

Using one of several wooden wedges he carried in his pocket for just such an occasion he secured the door in an open position. The air was still, but he was not about to risk becoming trapped inside by a random breeze or something more sinister in nature. He had made that mistake once and it lesson he would not easily, if ever, forget. Fear had a way of etching things into your mind like acid designs scored into metal. In the business of fighting evil you learned quickly or perished and Duo was not about to do the second.

The floor of the entry way was wood, scarred and stained with a dark substance that had run to the middle then pooled, finding the lowest level as liquid will. Keeping close to walls he avoided the sullied boards while dodging to avoid the occasional spider web that hung from the heavy beams of the low ceiling. The hallway opened up into a living room filled with furniture that once had been tasteful and whispered wealth. Now, covered in dust and rents that showed the cotton batting used to stuff the cushions, they were all that was left of a tragic story. The boarded up windows blocked most of the light and the occasional small sunbeam that broke through stabbed at the shadows as ineffectively as a butter knife against a dragon.

Beyond the living room was the dining area. Here the furniture had been reduced to unrecognizable piles of wood. There was nothing to be learned from what was left so Duo passed through quickly. The blueprint in his head said the door to the basement was in the kitchen and that was his goal. The door was plain, unpainted wood and the knob was simple, an almost perfect ball of tarnished brass. It appeared innocuous like every other cellar door, but behind it unspeakable acts of evil had been preformed. Or so he had been told. From his back pocket Duo pulled a silver flask, a gift from his mentor, and took a long swig. The alcohol burned going down, lighting a blaze that both warmed him and gave him courage. He toasted the door and took a second drink before capping the flask and returning it to his pocket.

Strengthened by drink and a renewed sense of purpose he reached for the knob. He turned it sharply and yanked, expecting the same resistance as he had encountered with the outer door. Surprisingly, it opened easily, swinging towards him on silent hinges. The stairs that led down into the darkness were made of brick and appeared solid enough though Duo could barely see part the first two. Pulling his torch from an inner pocket in his coat he flipped it on before pointing the beam into the inky darkness. The stairs disappeared beyond the range of his light seemingly unending. With a wedge in place to keep the cellar door Duo tested the first step with his toe and found it sound. The second was the same and so was the third. Slowly he worked his way down not allowing himself to look back at the shrinking rectangle of light and the slight safety it represented.

The basement itself was carved out of the hill the house sat on. The walls were made of bricks pressed into the rich dirt but, the floor was untouched and uncovered. Along the wall was a stack of damp wood and another of haphazardly piled coal. Further down was a bunch of rotting potatoes which lent the smell of decay to the odor of wet dirt and fear. Against the far wall was what could only be called an altar. It was vaguely H shaped though the sections above the cross bar were much shorter than the ones below. Three wooden bowls rested side by side on the cross piece. Inside they were dark stains that came almost to the lip. In one, several small feathers were still stuck, glued in place by whatever had filled the bowl. Grimacing, the alcohol that had warmed him in the kitchen now sitting heavy in his stomach, Duo kicked the side of the flimsy structure until it tilted to the side before slowly crashing to the ground. Shining his light over the now collapsed altar his eye was caught by something shiny. With one hand he kept his torched on the spot and with the other he pushed aside the debris to reveal a book.

It was bound in rich tanned hide and the script on the front was like liquid gold. The writing was foreign and carried with it a sense of agelessness. Raising it to his face, Duo blew away the dust that still coated the cover in places. As the warmth of his breath met the cold leather the script shifted, forming pictures of ancient and unspeakable horror. With a whimper of undiluted fear he dropped the book and bolted back towards the stairs. Booming laughter followed him, getting louder as it echoed around the defiled room. His client would no doubt consider this a failure as the book remained along with its master, but Duo didn't care. Not even the promise of a hundred dollars cash was risking the loss of his immortal soul.


End file.
